Philosophy and theology.
A theological question has been raised by an orthodox E-mail crony of mine in New York, as to the implications of the recent find of a rock on Mars that may offer evidence of early forms of life on the red planet. Actually, this question is meaning only to those who take a very simplistic view of religion. That simplistic view is anthropocentric and geocentric and literalist. Its world view is summed up in the hymn sung by some Protestant children, “How do I know? The Bible tells me so”. This mentality accepts the Genesis cycle of stories as an absolute scientific truth, rather than as mythology.
It is interesting that the rabbis, as far back as two thousand years ago, did not accept that approach. They developed an approach to Scripture, known as Midrash. That noun is derived from the verb darash, meaning to draw out. The concept was and is that one needs to interpret Scripture, and not merely to accept it on its face. There were four approaches to Midrash that were remembered by the acronym, “Pardes” (meaning paradise). The letters which it contained were the initials of four words. The first was Pshat, (simple), which meant that the text could be understood from its simple meaning. This was rare. The second was “Remez” (wink) which meant that there was a subtle hint of the meaning in the text. The third was “Drash” (draw out) which meant that the meaning of the text had to be drawn out by the use of certain rules of analytical procedure known as hermeneutics, and this was the most frequent method of understanding. The fourth was “Sod” (secret) which meant that the text could not be understood, or that its meaning is a mystery.
Halachah is a system of law developed during the Talmudic period, in response to the reality that Jews were becoming urbanized, and that they were beginning to live beyond the borders of the middle east. The Tannaim, who later took the title of rabbis, believed that if Judaism were to remain centered around the sacrificial system, that it would not survive. Through the vehicle of interpretation, they completely undercut the authority of the priesthood. By establishing the premise of t’fillah bimkom korban (prayer in place of sacrifice) they made the synagogue the center of the guilt alleviation process, instead of Beit HaMikdash (the Temple).
Halachah was a system that worked because Jews believed that the rabbis were the authoritative interpreters of a perfect, and therefore authoritative revelation.
With the rise of rationalism during the last quadrant of the seventeenth century, and with the development of the application of the scientific method to areas of social science, the old proofs of the perfection of scripture were no longer accepted. This is one of the philosophical forces that helped to give rise to Reform Judaism. Moses Mendelssohn taught the premise that the ritual laws are time and culture conditioned; only the ethical laws are permanent and immutable.
During the 19th and 20th centuries, new philosophical developments challenged old forms of thinking even more. Ethical relativism replaced absolutism in the minds of many Jewish thinkers.
By the twelfth century C.E., the great poet/philosopher, Abraham Ibn Ezra, whose philosophy was a mixture of neo-Platonistic emanationism and pantheism, and had come to the conclusion that yesh mi ayin, creatio ex nihilo, creation of something out of nothing, was not a valid concept. He developed the theory, and in relating it he took every step leading up to his concept, left out the conclusion, but closed his remarks with the enigmatic “V’ha-maskil yavin”, and the enlightened will understand. Earlier, Moses Maimonides in the Moreh Nevuchim, posited the idea of a finite deity limited by the rules of reason and physical reality.
All this as background, it is no surprise that many contemporary Jewish thinkers reject what has flippantly described by Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn, z”l as “cosmic bellhop” theology. In other words, the deity is not a cosmic bellhop who carries ones bags through life if one tips him by praying, and drops the bags on ones feet if not given the tip of prayer.
Further note that the reference to the Divine in this essay avoids the English word “God”, and its equivalent spelled with a hyphen, replacing letter “o”. That is because for many Jews, this particular English conjures up no meaningful referent. Why use an English word derived from a Teutonic root referring to a wood deity, when we have perfectly good Hebrew ones. Even for a rationalist like me, a term arising out of Judaism’s mystical tradition stands out above all the rest. It is the “Ein sof”, the endless One, the Eternal. The reality is that the One to whom we refer intimately as HaShem is actually unknowable. Why? Because the finite mind can not comprehend infinity. Trying to define the Eternal is like trying to wash an elephant with a toothbrush. Whether we are modernists or traditionalists, we must accept the reality of the finite nature of our minds. This acceptance leads us all to realize that our grasp of ma-seh v’resheet, the work of creation, is and can only ever be partial. Therefore, whether there is life on Mars or not has no effect on our theology. The ever expanding universe described to us by the physicists is the result of an Eternal reality, whose creative surge may be located here on earth, or anywhere else in the universe. Rather than indulge in obscure metaphysics, let us a Jews, together with the other human creatures of the Eternal seek to understand the understandable, namely one another, and thereby work towards the goal of Tikkun Olam. For centuries, indeed for millennia, the Jew has been wed to system that can be called the mitzvah system. The word mitzvah literally means commandment. The Yiddish understanding of the word mitzvah as a good deed really is a misunderstanding. The mitzvah of not wearing a garment of mixed wool and flax, the mitzvah of wearing a fringed garment, the mitzvah of bringing a sacrifice of the first harvested of ones fruits, the mitzvah of refraining from thirty-nine specific categories of work on Shabbat were not seen as good deeds. They were seen as commandments. Not only that, they were not seen as human or cultural or ethnic commandments. They were seen as commandments from God, a creator God who possessed a will, and had the capacity to communicate that will to humankind.
The mitzvot (plural of mitzvah) we have just mentioned, and they represent only a small sample, were biblical. During the period of their creation, we were first a shepherd people, and then an agrarian people. Under the influence of the Greek city-states, this agrarian people become both urbanized and mobile. A local people became internationalized. A tribal or national deity became cosmic in nature.
In response to these new realities, the Talmud was born. Through the vehicle of interpretation the mitzvah system was both expanded and radically changed. Many mitzvot that were dependent for their performance on a local, agricultural life were passed by under the Talmudic principle of t’fillah bimkom korban, prayer in place of sacrifice.
The next step was the development of the concept of syag which may be translated as fence or hedge. The Talmud says, “Build a syag around the Torah.” The syag became a series of ever increasing concentric circles of ritual. Ceremony upon ceremony was added to the warp and woof of the tapestry of Judaism. The Jewish law codes of the mediaeval period were manuals of ritual. The siddur, the prayerbook, became the portable homeland of the Jew. Centuries elapsed. The ritual became frozen and came to be the raison d’etre for most of the Jewish people.
As events and rationales faded amid the mists of antiquity, larger and larger segments of our Jewish populace lost all understanding of why this b’rachah, this blessing? Why that practice? Why the other rule? The age of reason, the age of modern philosophy, were the genesis of a Jewish intellectual revolution. New values, new perspectives, new understandings, instead of buttressing belief in an evolving mitzvah system, challenged its validity. New theologies challenged the Divine authority that commanded ritual practice. New cultural motifs undercut the old motivation. New Weltanschauungen (world views) created hitherto unasked questions. A new phenomenon arose, the bifurcated Jew: the Jew who lived most of his or her life in the contemporary Western world, but who had one foot in the past, pawing the ground, looking for hidden roots. This Jew found a new modus vivendi. He sought no more rams or bullocks to be slaughtered on the altar, nor desired any more pious or perfunctory performance of prayers. Instead, this Jew maintained the motif of the moth, being motivated mysteriously toward the flame, yet fearful of fitfully flying into it. This scenario of spiritual schizophrenia provided no panacea. It purported to preserve us, yet painfully perpetuated a pestilence which plagues our people to this day. It grows as we grievously grope for growth. It is the demon that daunts, the devil that debilitates, the darkness that destroys. In one word its noxious name is “guilt.”
We suffer from a malady which Gilbert Murray describes as “the failure of nerve.” We no longer wish to be bound to the core of commandment. Yet, we are fearful to free ourselves from its fetters. We impale ourselves on the horns of dilemma, having neither the understanding nor the will to loose ourselves from its barb. What path is there for us to pursue? What providence can provide us with a prescription? What practice can palliate or prevent our pain? Before we can alleviate these anxieties, we need to find the drive to dry the estuaries of ennui that envelope our energies. This then is a call to commitment, and to courage.
We recall the words of Marc Antony, “The fault, dear Caesar, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.” We have within us the capacity to cope, if we will but find it. The solution, I believe lies in authority, but not the external authority of the past. The failure to face the fact that we feel frustrated forces us to fall back. We need to push ourselves forward, to power ourselves through the guilt barrier and say, I am free to determine the dimensions of my duty. I am a Jew on my terms, not the tenacious terms of a tyranny of time and culture conditioning. I am my own authority, and I shall decide the way in which I will assert my own identity, my selfhood, my being. From the vast literary historical continuum that gives me my inner name, the inner name of Jew, I am free to choose.
It is interesting that the rabbis, as far back as two thousand years ago, did not accept that approach. They developed an approach to Scripture, known as Midrash. That noun is derived from the verb darash, meaning to draw out. The concept was and is that one needs to interpret Scripture, and not merely to accept it on its face. There were four approaches to Midrash that were remembered by the acronym, “Pardes” (meaning paradise). The letters which it contained were the initials of four words. The first was Pshat, (simple), which meant that the text could be understood from its simple meaning. This was rare. The second was “Remez” (wink) which meant that there was a subtle hint of the meaning in the text. The third was “Drash” (draw out) which meant that the meaning of the text had to be drawn out by the use of certain rules of analytical procedure known as hermeneutics, and this was the most frequent method of understanding. The fourth was “Sod” (secret) which meant that the text could not be understood, or that its meaning is a mystery.
Halachah is a system of law developed during the Talmudic period, in response to the reality that Jews were becoming urbanized, and that they were beginning to live beyond the borders of the middle east. The Tannaim, who later took the title of rabbis, believed that if Judaism were to remain centered around the sacrificial system, that it would not survive. Through the vehicle of interpretation, they completely undercut the authority of the priesthood. By establishing the premise of t’fillah bimkom korban (prayer in place of sacrifice) they made the synagogue the center of the guilt alleviation process, instead of Beit HaMikdash (the Temple).
Halachah was a system that worked because Jews believed that the rabbis were the authoritative interpreters of a perfect, and therefore authoritative revelation.
With the rise of rationalism during the last quadrant of the seventeenth century, and with the development of the application of the scientific method to areas of social science, the old proofs of the perfection of scripture were no longer accepted. This is one of the philosophical forces that helped to give rise to Reform Judaism. Moses Mendelssohn taught the premise that the ritual laws are time and culture conditioned; only the ethical laws are permanent and immutable.
During the 19th and 20th centuries, new philosophical developments challenged old forms of thinking even more. Ethical relativism replaced absolutism in the minds of many Jewish thinkers.
By the twelfth century C.E., the great poet/philosopher, Abraham Ibn Ezra, whose philosophy was a mixture of neo-Platonistic emanationism and pantheism, and had come to the conclusion that yesh mi ayin, creatio ex nihilo, creation of something out of nothing, was not a valid concept. He developed the theory, and in relating it he took every step leading up to his concept, left out the conclusion, but closed his remarks with the enigmatic “V’ha-maskil yavin”, and the enlightened will understand. Earlier, Moses Maimonides in the Moreh Nevuchim, posited the idea of a finite deity limited by the rules of reason and physical reality.
All this as background, it is no surprise that many contemporary Jewish thinkers reject what has flippantly described by Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn, z”l as “cosmic bellhop” theology. In other words, the deity is not a cosmic bellhop who carries ones bags through life if one tips him by praying, and drops the bags on ones feet if not given the tip of prayer.
Further note that the reference to the Divine in this essay avoids the English word “God”, and its equivalent spelled with a hyphen, replacing letter “o”. That is because for many Jews, this particular English conjures up no meaningful referent. Why use an English word derived from a Teutonic root referring to a wood deity, when we have perfectly good Hebrew ones. Even for a rationalist like me, a term arising out of Judaism’s mystical tradition stands out above all the rest. It is the “Ein sof”, the endless One, the Eternal. The reality is that the One to whom we refer intimately as HaShem is actually unknowable. Why? Because the finite mind can not comprehend infinity. Trying to define the Eternal is like trying to wash an elephant with a toothbrush. Whether we are modernists or traditionalists, we must accept the reality of the finite nature of our minds. This acceptance leads us all to realize that our grasp of ma-seh v’resheet, the work of creation, is and can only ever be partial. Therefore, whether there is life on Mars or not has no effect on our theology. The ever expanding universe described to us by the physicists is the result of an Eternal reality, whose creative surge may be located here on earth, or anywhere else in the universe. Rather than indulge in obscure metaphysics, let us a Jews, together with the other human creatures of the Eternal seek to understand the understandable, namely one another, and thereby work towards the goal of Tikkun Olam. For centuries, indeed for millennia, the Jew has been wed to system that can be called the mitzvah system. The word mitzvah literally means commandment. The Yiddish understanding of the word mitzvah as a good deed really is a misunderstanding. The mitzvah of not wearing a garment of mixed wool and flax, the mitzvah of wearing a fringed garment, the mitzvah of bringing a sacrifice of the first harvested of ones fruits, the mitzvah of refraining from thirty-nine specific categories of work on Shabbat were not seen as good deeds. They were seen as commandments. Not only that, they were not seen as human or cultural or ethnic commandments. They were seen as commandments from God, a creator God who possessed a will, and had the capacity to communicate that will to humankind.
The mitzvot (plural of mitzvah) we have just mentioned, and they represent only a small sample, were biblical. During the period of their creation, we were first a shepherd people, and then an agrarian people. Under the influence of the Greek city-states, this agrarian people become both urbanized and mobile. A local people became internationalized. A tribal or national deity became cosmic in nature.
In response to these new realities, the Talmud was born. Through the vehicle of interpretation the mitzvah system was both expanded and radically changed. Many mitzvot that were dependent for their performance on a local, agricultural life were passed by under the Talmudic principle of t’fillah bimkom korban, prayer in place of sacrifice.
The next step was the development of the concept of syag which may be translated as fence or hedge. The Talmud says, “Build a syag around the Torah.” The syag became a series of ever increasing concentric circles of ritual. Ceremony upon ceremony was added to the warp and woof of the tapestry of Judaism. The Jewish law codes of the mediaeval period were manuals of ritual. The siddur, the prayerbook, became the portable homeland of the Jew. Centuries elapsed. The ritual became frozen and came to be the raison d’etre for most of the Jewish people.
As events and rationales faded amid the mists of antiquity, larger and larger segments of our Jewish populace lost all understanding of why this b’rachah, this blessing? Why that practice? Why the other rule? The age of reason, the age of modern philosophy, were the genesis of a Jewish intellectual revolution. New values, new perspectives, new understandings, instead of buttressing belief in an evolving mitzvah system, challenged its validity. New theologies challenged the Divine authority that commanded ritual practice. New cultural motifs undercut the old motivation. New Weltanschauungen (world views) created hitherto unasked questions. A new phenomenon arose, the bifurcated Jew: the Jew who lived most of his or her life in the contemporary Western world, but who had one foot in the past, pawing the ground, looking for hidden roots. This Jew found a new modus vivendi. He sought no more rams or bullocks to be slaughtered on the altar, nor desired any more pious or perfunctory performance of prayers. Instead, this Jew maintained the motif of the moth, being motivated mysteriously toward the flame, yet fearful of fitfully flying into it. This scenario of spiritual schizophrenia provided no panacea. It purported to preserve us, yet painfully perpetuated a pestilence which plagues our people to this day. It grows as we grievously grope for growth. It is the demon that daunts, the devil that debilitates, the darkness that destroys. In one word its noxious name is “guilt.”
We suffer from a malady which Gilbert Murray describes as “the failure of nerve.” We no longer wish to be bound to the core of commandment. Yet, we are fearful to free ourselves from its fetters. We impale ourselves on the horns of dilemma, having neither the understanding nor the will to loose ourselves from its barb. What path is there for us to pursue? What providence can provide us with a prescription? What practice can palliate or prevent our pain? Before we can alleviate these anxieties, we need to find the drive to dry the estuaries of ennui that envelope our energies. This then is a call to commitment, and to courage.
We recall the words of Marc Antony, “The fault, dear Caesar, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.” We have within us the capacity to cope, if we will but find it. The solution, I believe lies in authority, but not the external authority of the past. The failure to face the fact that we feel frustrated forces us to fall back. We need to push ourselves forward, to power ourselves through the guilt barrier and say, I am free to determine the dimensions of my duty. I am a Jew on my terms, not the tenacious terms of a tyranny of time and culture conditioning. I am my own authority, and I shall decide the way in which I will assert my own identity, my selfhood, my being. From the vast literary historical continuum that gives me my inner name, the inner name of Jew, I am free to choose.
posted by JMS | 3:13 PM
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